Chapter Two: The Practice Room in the Low Tide

wall that refused to crack. The hardest work was mental. Marcus gave him a strange assignment: after every scrim loss, he was not allowed to explain himself, not allowed to apologize. He had to say only three things. “What I saw.” “What I missed.” “What I verify next time.” The first time Caleb tried it, his throat locked. He was used to filling mistakes with excuses: no vision, bad support positioning, enemy draft advantage, impossible economy swing. Now he had to speak only facts. “I saw their support disappear,” he said. He stopped. “I missed how hard they were forcing me into my BKB timing.” The last sentence came out quieter. “Next time I check river before I check myself.” Marcus nodded. No comfort. Just approval.